Without Regrets
by Dasselrond
Summary: Sam and Jack redefine their relationship. Mild Season 8 spoilers. Threads & Moebius in particular. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

It was late, well after midnight, and they had all called it a night hours ago. He had been dozing in bed when he first heard the creak of the old wooden floorboards in the guest room followed by the squeak of the front screen door. Slipping on the pair of flannel pants and t-shirt he had discarded earlier, Jack followed her from the cabin, careful not to wake up Daniel who was dead to the world on the couch, snoring, or Teal'c who was crashed out in a sleeping bag on the floor in front of the still glowing fireplace.

The spring night was cool and somewhat damp, but the skies above were clear. Moonlight glistened on the lake and illuminated the lonely figure that stood, head bowed in sorrow, at the edge of the wooden dock.

Carter.

He watched. Silently. Guarding and protecting, although there was no danger. In this place, at this time, they were all safe and secure. Still, he watched her as he always did. Watched from a distance. Unobtrusive, lest she know that he there. She hated that. Hovering, she called it, but he couldn't help it. Not now. Not when he knew she was hurting.

Her father, dead. Her fiancé, released. And while he privately rejoiced at the latter, he grieved with her about her father. Jacob had been a good man, and he had raised a daughter who was as good a woman as Jack had ever known. They were equally as stubborn, however. It was a trait that had saved them all, time and again, he mused. It was her greatest strength, and her greatest weakness. It was one of the reasons why he had fallen in love with her.

He loved. That was why he watched her from the shadows of the pine trees next to the cabin.

Each night since their arrival in Minnesota, she had slipped quietly from the cabin, away from the three men who were her family, to grieve in private. Each night, without fail, he had followed so that she would not be alone. During the day, she hid her grief behind the friendship and the fishing, hiking, swimming, and grilling. Her brilliant smile giving lie to the pain reflected in her eyes. They all knew it was there, but it was so well concealed that they almost forgot. Almost.

But now, alone, her body was taut with misery. She hadn't screamed at the heavens in frustration. She hadn't ranted at the unfairness of it all. That wasn't her way. She hadn't cried either, and that worried him.

Not that he was an expert in the ways of grief. For crying out loud, he couldn't even master his own, but he knew enough to know that "holding in" wasn't healthy. Doing so had cost him his own marriage, nearly his own life. She had changed that for him. Over the years, her tacit comfort, support, and understanding had been able to bring him back from the depths of his own grief. Such open empathy was another reason he loved her. She deserved no less from him.

He watched as she pressed her hands to her eyes and shook her head mournfully, moonlight glinting off her blonde hair like liquid silver. She was so lovely. So sad. So alone. His heart clenched like a fist in his chest at the sight of her. He didn't know what was different about this night. He didn't know what finally drew him beyond the secrecy of the shadows, but he moved toward her, bare feet silent on the dewy grass.

She turned as he was reaching out a comforting hand to her shoulder, and he suddenly found his arms wrapping around her as she clutched at his body. She trembled and he pulled her closer still, tightening his arms about her so that she became almost a part of him. Sinking as one to the dock, her trembling changed to silent sobs that wracked her body and tore at his heart. He could feel her hot tears seeping though the thin fabric of his shirt, and had she cried aloud he would have known what to do, known what to say. Even soothing sounds seemed wrong somehow. He felt useless, so he did the only thing he could think to do and clung to her as she did to him.

He would never be certain just how long they sat there on the dock in each other's arms. A few minutes? An eternity? It would never be enough for him. Eventually, her tears ebbed and her arms loosened somewhat from his chest. She was cradled in his arms now, head tucked under his chin.

She had long wondered how this would feel, being held by him for more than just a few fleeting moments. His scent was addictive. His touch enthralling. The grief that had tore at her so mercilessly eased, and she could no longer think of any other place she wanted to be. She took one steadying breath, and then another.

"I'm sorry about …" she began.

"Don't!" he demanded softly, his arms tightening to emphasize his point. "Don't even think about apologizing for this." Turning his head, he rested his cheek on top of her silky hair. "Don't ever apologize to me for being human, Carter."

"I miss him," she said simply, swallowing tightly to prevent the return of her tears.

"I know."

"I guess the little girl in me thought that with Selmak's influence he'd be around forever."

"We all did."

"Even with the extra years we had, there was still so much to do. So much left to say to …" she stopped as tears welled in her eyes again.

"Hey," he said, turning her face up to meet his. Wiping away the tears on her cheek with his thumb, he cupped her face tenderly in his hands and looked into her eyes. "We never really get to say _all_ that we want to those we love. There's always something left that we regret not –"

"I love you, Jack," she said suddenly, straightening in his arms. His dark eyes widened, and she watched a wealth of emotions cross his face. Surprise. Disbelief. Whatever else there was, she didn't even want to guess, and she continued on before she lost the nerve to say what she had longed to say to him for so many years.

"I don't want this left unsaid, Jack. I don't want to regret never telling you that I am in love with you. I tried to forget, tried to move on with my life and find something that was more … attainable. But I just couldn't lie to myself anymore. Dad was right. Everything he tried to make me understand before he died was right. I wasn't happy with Pete. I tried to be, but how can you be happy marrying one man when you are in love with another? I so sorry if I hurt you by –"

"Shh," he said, pressing his fingers against her lips to stop the flow of words. "Just … just don't say anything else," he begged. "Sometimes you really do talk too much, Carter." Her blue eyes widened in dismay at his response and suddenly she was embarrassed. She had said too much. She shouldn't have said anything at all. He saw the uncertainty on her face, and a smile tugged briefly at the corners of his mouth. "You think too much, too," he chuckled before desire took hold of him and he claimed her lips with his own.

At first the kiss was tender, hesitant, and uncertain, but she would have staked her life on the fact that she had never experienced anything like it before. It was overwhelming. Her fingers twined in his short hair as he caressed her body beneath her sweater with his strong hands. "Jack …" she moaned, but then his arms pulled her deeper into his embrace, his lips deeper into their kiss, and she was lost.

God, she was so sweet. Finally, a kiss unimpeded by viruses or time loops. This was Carter. _His_ Carter, not one from an alternate timeline, and she was moaning his name against his mouth in her desire, arching her body into his with her need, clinging to him in a way that he had only dreamed of ever happening.

Reluctantly, he ended their kiss with a final caress of her lips, and she protested their absence from her flesh. Her eyes opened lazily, their blue depths questioning and concerned.

"You know I'm not that complex," he admitted with a rueful grin. " 'I love you, Jack' told me everything I wanted to know." Gazing down at her as she lay on the dock beneath him, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I love you too, Carter," he whispered against her skin. "More than I will ever be able to show you."

He had never seen her smile in quite that way before. It was a smile full of her love for him, and it was brilliant. It warmed his soul.

"What do we do now?" she asked hesitantly in a whisper against his neck. "The regs …"

" … are still there," he finished, tugging her into a sitting position next to him. Taking her hand in his, he looked into her eyes. "I don't have all the answers," he said seriously. "If I did, I sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to tell you how I feel." He shrugged. "I know this, though. I love you. I need you. And for as long as we've got, I want you with me. Trust me, Carter. We'll find a way."

She smiled again and pressed her lips to his. She knew that being together wasn't going to be an easy task, but right now, here in his arms, she didn't really care.

Jack was enjoying their second kiss even more than their first when she suddenly pulled away. He groaned in frustration and reached to pull her back, but she resisted.

"By the way," she said seriously, "call me Sam."

"Nope. No way." His answer was emphatic, solidified with a firm shake of his head.

"But Carter's a little formal, don't you think? I mean after all we are going to be –"

"Look. I've loved you a long time. Way before the armbands and the za'tarc doohickey. Although I hadn't really acknowledged it even to myself before that," he admitted, then shook his head to get back to the point at hand. "Anyway, after all that, calling you 'Carter' came to mean something else – something more."

Her eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "What? What does it mean to you when you call me Carter."

He shook his head. "Oh no, if I told you then it wouldn't be …" His words trailed off as she began kissing his neck, instinctively finding the sensitive spot just below his left ear. Sweet!

"What does it mean?" she asked softly in his ear between kisses.

Might as well give the lady what she wants, he thought. Then, not even willing to let the night air share in the secret meaning, he whispered the truth in her ear.

At first she pulled back, startled at the endearment she never realized he was calling her all these years, and she searched his dark eyes with her own. She saw honest emotion and love there, and then she smiled with pleasure.

"Yeah. On second thought, I think I can live with you calling me 'Carter'."

He smiled impishly and gave her a quick peck on the nose. "Thought you might." He stood, groaning as his knees protested the sudden movement, and held out a hand to her. "C'mon. It's late. It's cold. I'm old. Let's go to bed."

He laughed outright at the lustful look that appeared on her face when he mentioned going to bed, but he shook his head. "I mean _sleep_, Carter. I want nothing more in the world than to make love to you, but it's been a long couple of days, and there's still a lot to talk about. I wanna do this right," he insisted as he caressed her cheek with his palm. She nodded her understanding and agreement.

"Fine, but if you think I'm spending another night in a bed without you, Jack, you can just forget it right now."

"Just as well." He took her hand in his as they walked back toward the cabin. "I've got cold toes, and you'll make a dandy foot warmer." He winced in mock pain when she punched him in the shoulder, then turned when she tugged at his hand.

"Tomorrow, Jack?" she asked, her face filled with a mixture of wonder and hesitancy.

"Tomorrow," he promised, kissing her gently. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, they continued on to the cabin together. Tomorrow, everything was finally possible.


	2. Tomorrow Comes

"Without Regrets: Tomorrow Comes"

The first rays of the morning sun touched the surface of the lake and glittered upon the still water just as the moon had done a few hours before. The thin curtains of the cabin stirred, and the breeze that passed through the partially open bedroom window was cool, but promised in its breath the warmth of the day to come. A cardinal's song greeted the morning, followed by a flutter of wings as the bird took flight in search of food for its newly hatched offspring.

The piercingly sweet song caused Jack to squeeze his eyes tighter, groan, and roll over in his bed, stretching and trying to work out some of the kinks from his body. Too damn early, he though. Not gonna get up yet.

As he moved, however, Jack's hand made contact with the warm body next to him. Smiling, he reached out, wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her closer to him. Sam didn't wake, but she responded to the increasing warmth of his body by nestling comfortably into his arms and wrapping a flannel-clad leg around his as she slept.

As he looked at her, golden hair rumpled from sleep, eyelids somewhat puffy from her tears, lips definitely swollen from his kisses, his heart swelled with emotion. With gentle fingers, he brushed a stray lock of her short hair from her forehead. It's silkiness felt strange against his calloused skin. He had touched her hair before, of course. Whenever he had found cause or opportunity over the years to hold her, he had, touching her hair and taking what brief pleasure he could in the forbidden caress. But now he could take his time, and the sense of freedom that knowledge gave him made her hair feel softer, shine brighter, and smell better than he remembered.

He wanted to pull her to him and never let go for fear that she would disappear from his arms like mist with the coming morning. Sam meant everything to him now. Hell, she always had. But because he had never been able to give true voice to his love, it had seemed almost intangible. An illusion. An illusion that had been destroyed by a reality so amazing he had a hard time believing it was true.

As he held her close, a forgotten phrase of a forbidden love from long ago popped into mind. Granted, its origin annoyed him just as much now as it had then, but only now, nearly forty years later, did he fully grasp its meaning.

"I am afeared, being in night, all this is but a dream," Jack murmured to the sleeping figure in his arms, "too flattering sweet to be substantial."

Sleepy blue eyes opened in surprise at his soft words. "Shakespeare?" Sam asked, incredulous. "You're quoting Shakespeare!"

"Yeah … well … you were supposed to be asleep," he mumbled, uncomfortable at having been caught. "Besides, I know things," Jack insisted, pulling back from her, brown eyes wide in mock indignation. "Theoretical physics of wormhole thingamabobs might be bit over my head, but I still _know_ things."

"I know you do, Jack," she chuckled, snuggling closer against his body. While he would be the first to admit that in some arenas he wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, she also knew that General Jack O'Neill wasn't nearly as stupid as he let people believe. There were depths to this man that even she hadn't seen yet, but she knew they were there. He claimed that he wasn't a complex man, and in some ways he was right. In others ... well, in others his "simplicity" was more intricate than most math equations she had seen come out of M.I.T.

"Besides," he grumbled, shrugging his shoulders, "Shakespeare's supposed to be romantic, right?"

The question was rhetorical, so she didn't answer. Instead, Sam considered the quotation Jack had chosen. "It's not a dream," she said after a few minutes. "We're not a dream. You do believe that, right?"

"I do, but ..." he paused, running his hand along her bare shoulder, and sliding his finger under the thin strap of the white tank top she had worn to bed last night. God he loved those things.

" ... but, it's not going to be easy to make it all work," Sam finished for him.

"Something like that," he sighed as he leaned back against the pillows. Silence descended on the small room as they both considered the complexities of their situation. There were several possible solutions. That they would each have to make sacrifices, they knew. But the matter of deciding _which_ sacrifices they could live with was the problem.

Jack turned his head on the pillow. "It will work, Carter," he said emphatically. "We'll make it work."

Sam's only response was to capture his lips with her own in a deep and lingering kiss.

Ohyeah, gotta make it work, Jack thought as her fingers caressed his ribcage. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled across the bed, pinning her beneath him. He plundered her mouth with a searing kiss as she twined her legs around his hips, arching herself against his arousal. Kisses, caresses, and loving words were all that they had shared upon returning to the cabin last night. In light of her emotions surrounding Jacob's death, it had been the right thing to do at the time. Now, the only right thing to do was this.

As Sam clung to him, Jack eased a hand beneath the waistband of her flannel pants. Lifting her hips from the bed in tacit consent, Jack quickly tugged them free from her body. She wore nothing underneath, and Sam moaned his name low in her throat as his hands began to explore parts of her body she only dreamed of him touching.

The pair of boxers he wore did nothing to hide his own excitement from her, and Sam let her hands begin a sensuous exploration of their own.

"God, Carter!" Jack's growl of pleasure in her ear emboldened her actions as she gripped, and teased, and caressed him. Pushing the top clear of her chest, Jack let the fullness of one breast fill his hand as he feasted upon it with his tongue and lips. Below, his other hand stroked and tormented her. With each touch he could feel Sam's passion building toward its climax. His own body was taut with need, but it wasn't time for him yet. It was all about her. They had both waited so long for this there was no way he was going to rush it. He was going to savor very touch, every sensation …

"Jack?" The pounding on the bedroom door was a distant sound in Jack's mind. For now, the only thing he heard were the soft cries of Sam's increasing pleasure.

"Hey, Jack? You up yet?" Daniel called through the bedroom door.

"For cryin' out loud! You have _got_ to be kidding me!" Jack growled in frustration, pressing his face into the pillow behind to Sam's head. Timing! I have _got_ to work on that man's timing!

Sam felt like she had been doused with the proverbial bucket of ice water. Her climax had just been within her grasp when Daniel's voice on the other side of the door reached her ears. Talk about a mood blower. "Tell me again why we brought him?" she asked Jack, her own frustration clear in her voice.

"Go away, Daniel," Jack said, his voice raised in irritation. "Turn, walk away, and I might just let you live," he then muttered into the pillowcase.

But the knocking continued, and Daniel's muffled voice took on an urgent tone. "I'm worried about Sam, Jack. She's not in her room, and considering how she was feeling last night, I don't think it's a good idea for her to be alone right now. I was wondering if you," Daniel opened the door, took one look at occupants (plural) of the bed, his voice trailing off in surprise, "might know ... where ... she ... Oh boy!"

In a flash, Jack pulled the sheet up to cover them, but not before Daniel got not quite so healthy eyeful of their mostly naked bodies. "Damn it, Daniel!" Jack shouted.

Sam risked a quick peek over Jack's shoulder, and in spite of her irritation with her friend, quickly stifled a giggle. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen Daniel so flustered before. His glasses had slipped down his nose from his double take, his mouth hung open in surprise, his natural gift for languages seemed to have abandoned him, and he kept gesturing lamely from Jack to her and back again as he sputtered in surprise. Simply put, Dr. Daniel Jackson was thunderstruck.

"Snap out of it, Daniel!" Jack barked.

Daniel jumped at the sound of the Jack's voice. Tearing his gaze from the long expanse of Sam's naked thigh and hip that still peeked out from under the blue sheet, he noted the angry finger that pointed at the door behind him.

"Just leave!" Jack ordered, his finger punctuating his words. "Shut your mouth, shut the door, and just leave."

Daniel nodded in stupefied agreement, grasping at the doorknob as he backed from the room. "Umm, yeah ... uh, I'm just gonna ... go now. I'm sorr ... Oh, boy!" he blurted again, quickly pulling the wooden door shut behind him.

Daniel leaned heavily against the closed door, mind still a blur with what he had just walked in on. Jack? Sam? Jack and Sam? Wow. Finally? And who ever would have guessed Sam had such a great … jeeze, Jackson! She's like your sister for Pete's sake! But … damn …

Daniel raised his head as Teal'c approached the bedroom door, his brows raised in silent question.

"Umm … hey, Teal'c," Daniel stammered.

"Daniel Jackson, did O'Neill know where Colonel Carter could be found?" Teal'c asked patiently.

"Well … umm, yeah. I guess you could say he did," Daniel said weakly. Then pushing himself past the larger man, he walked away shaking his head. "I really need another pot of coffee," he muttered, leaving the confused Jaffa behind to stare at the closed door.


	3. Noon at the Lake

Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just playing in the land created by the powers that be.

* * *

_Without Regrets: Noon_

Sam and Teal'c had taken the truck into town a few hours earlier to get supplies for the next couple of days, so that left Daniel alone at the cabin. Alone, save for the Air Force brigadier general who sat brooding at the end of the dock.

Sam and Jack's goodbye had been brief and to the point, but that didn't worry Daniel. Neither of the pair was overly "touchy feely" anyway, and he didn't honestly think that the change in the official status of their relationship would really affect that. After all, they were what they were, and their love for one another had been born from that understanding. Nevertheless, Jack's taciturn mood since emerging from the master bedroom earlier that morning struck Daniel as rather odd. Even if Daniel had barged in on them, an image he was still trying to wipe from his mind's eye.

In any even, he knew that Jack O'Neill was a very private man when it came to sharing his emotions, but Daniel figured that the man would be showing at least _some_ degree of happiness about finally having what he had longed for over so many years.

After Sam and Teal'c left for town, however, Jack took his fishing rod and headed for the lake without a word.

When in a good mood, Jack O'Neill was as pleasant, fun loving, and wisecracking a guy as you'd ever meet. Out of uniform, few people would ever guess that he was a general in the Air Force, let alone a black ops trained hero who had saved the world more times than Daniel could count anymore.

But when O'Neill brooded … well, the people who were closest to him knew to leave the man alone.

And so Daniel had done, at least for a while.

While Jack "fished" (Daniel used the term loosely since he figured fishing entailed the hook actually going _into_ the water), Daniel kept busy in the cabin doing the breakfast dishes, folding up his blankets from the couch, and tidying up in general. Once or twice he peeked out the kitchen window, but Jack hadn't moved. Only the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the fishing rod in his hand testified to the fact that the man was alive at all.

Two hours later, when Jack still hadn't moved, Daniel figured that enough was enough. The sun was approaching its zenith as Daniel Jackson pulled the mesh-bottomed chair closer to the edge of the short dock. Holding out one of the cold beers he had grabbed from the fridge, Daniel settled himself down next to his friend.

"Little early for you isn't it?" Jack asked, eyeing the sweating bottle suspiciously for a moment before accepting the offering and taking a swig.

"Yeah, well, I figure it's vacation," Daniel answered, letting his gaze wander to the lake.

Jack nodded an agreement, but said nothing further. Daniel felt the silence hang between them for some time before he felt compelled to speak.

"So …" he said hesitantly, pushing up his glasses.

"So," Jack responded.

Well, at least he's talking … kinda. Daniel tried again.

"So … you and Sam, huh?"

"Me and Sam," Jack confirmed without a nod, taking another draw on his beer.

"Well, that's, ummm, surprising," Daniel replied, nodding to himself.

"What's so damn surprising about it!" demanded Jack, turning his head sharply to glare at his friend.

"Okay, okay! Maybe surprising isn't the _right_ word," Daniel agreed, struggling to find what word _did_ fit the situation. "It just that … well, what I mean to say is …" He sighed with frustration that he couldn't find the right words and decided to take a different approach. "What changed, Jack? I mean, you and Sam have been dancing around your love for each other for at least the last four or five years –"

"Longer," Jack mumbled. "At least for me."

He turned back toward the lake. He loved this place. It was quite and private. So removed from the hectic drama that life had become ever since going through the Stargate for the second time. Here he could think. Here he could be himself. Here anything was possible. It was what would happen when Sam and he went back _there_ that worried him.

Daniel waited patiently. He knew the man, and Jack O'Neill wasn't overly good with words when they really counted. Not that the man didn't _have_ the words, he just didn't know how to put the feelings into the _right_ words. All too often, the results came across as flippant or insensitive.

"You know I could give a fuck about what the regs say about it," Jack said at last, setting down his beer, flipping his fishing rod back, and finally casting a line into the water. "Hell, I've broken enough regulations in the last eight years alone to earn me a dozen courts martials if Hammond had ever decided to do anything about 'em."

"But breaking _these_ regs affected more than just you," Daniel said thoughtfully, completing Jack's train of thought.

Jack nodded his agreement, methodically reeling in the fishing line. "No way was I gonna risk Carter's career. Or her reputation." Jack's answer was emphatic. "So, I always just left things well enough alone …"

"And then she met Pete." Daniel watched Jack's spine stiffen in response. "And … we know how _that_ ended," he continued, letting that part of the topic drop quickly.

"I wasn't going to risk losing her a second time."

Several more moments of silence passed between the men. Jack cast his line again, and Daniel's thoughts drifted to Sha're. Losing her to the goa'uld had been agony. Seeing her vitality suppressed by Amonet, knowing what cruelties the symbiont forced her to inflict, had pushed Daniel almost to his breaking point. Her death still haunted him, but the years had allowed Daniel to see that, in the end, her death was the only release Sha're could ever have known. The only way she would ever have been free. Their love continued to inspire and drive him, and while her loss wounded him irrevocably, Daniel couldn't begin to imagine the pain Jack and Sam had suffered over the years. Always together, but always apart. Feeling everything, but able to say nothing. It was all just so very wrong.

"And Sam?" he asked, pushing the memories away.

"Something Jacob said to her before he died," Jack said, eyes thoughtful as he remembered his old friend.

"Oh?"

"He told her not to let rules stand in the way of her being happy."

Daniel smiled. He wasn't surprised. Jacob's love for his daughter had always been clear for everyone to see.

"He wanted to let her know that it was all right." Jack's tone had turned introspective, and he pointed at his chest. "That _we_ were all right."

For the first time all morning, Daniel watched a smile, one of absolute delight, spread across his friend's face. There it was. The joy. The tide had finally turned.

"So where do you go from here," Daniel asked. His friends would face serious consequences if their relationship was discovered once they got home. But neither Jack nor Sam was the type to hide from the facts. It wasn't going to be easy.

"Haven't got a damn clue," Jack chuckled, reeling his line in a final time before setting the rod on the dock next to him. "S'pose we'll give Hammond a ring when we get back and go from there. He'll give us a fair shake first and call the MPs second. Til then, we've decided not to worry about it. Just gonna enjoy our time here and figure things out when we get back to the Springs."

"You want Teal'c and me to head back and give you two –"

"No," Jack said without a second thought. For him, the matter was settled. Daniel and Teal'c were family as far as Jack was concerned, and they all belonged together. A sentiment he knew that Sam shared.

"Yeah, but –" Jack rolled his eyes and wondered when Daniel would _ever_ learn to shut up when he was still ahead.

"No buts, Daniel," Jack insisted, pointing his finger at the younger man. "Now this doesn't mean that I won't kill you myself the next time you barge into my bedroom while Sam and I are –"

"Hey! Like I planned that!" Daniel raised his hands up in defense of his earlier actions. "You think I needed to see your naked ass sticking up in the air? Or Sam's bare…"

"Sam's bare what, Daniel!" Jack found himself wondering if he would actually have to get out of his chair to strangle the archeologist with fishing line.

"Ummm, nothing," Daniel said, swallowing back his next words. Better that he keep _that_ particular image to himself. And oh, what an image it was. "Just keep the door locked next time, would ya?" he insisted.

"Oh, yeah! Like _that_ would stop you?" Jack laughed outright. Locked doors only peaked Daniel's curiosity, and each member of SG-1 had more than their share of scars from the things Daniel had let _out_ of locked rooms in the last eight years.

"Would too!" Daniel asserted.

"Would not!" Jack insisted.

"Would too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Oh for crying out loud, Daniel! It would not!"

Daniel paused for a moment, his mind replaying the scene he had interrupted earlier that morning. No question.

"Would too!"


End file.
